James. Sometimes...you get a lorry embedded in your face.
When I was a teenage Snark, I accepted a Valentine's Day date to watch ice hockey with a young man who bore more than a passing resemblance to a large and unwieldy rodent. He was no looker, that's for sure. Nor was he good company, come to think of it. I was gold-digging for some sweet, sweet ice hockey tickets. Hell yeah.

Never the type to allow ugliness, lack of intelligence or boorishness to get him down, he decided to impress me by driving very fast down an icy freeway. If this were a film, there would be a close-up of him laughing with his freakish rodent teeth, and then a side-angle shot of me calling him a dick. The slow-motion montage of breaking glass and screaming would kick in just in time to see the front end of a lorry smash into the passenger seat where the hero of the story (me, of course) was sitting.

For extra measure, 6 other cars ran into ours, halving the length of the original vehicle. I had serious neck and head injuries, deep cuts all over my body and a glove box which had embedded itself in my lap. Through some miracle, my cranium merely pinged off the lorry and the abject carnage what was the remainder of the car was beautifully wrapped around me. I was fine. Well, fine-ish. The sort of fine which takes lots of giant metal and plastic contraptions to make right again.

But how did I survive? I don't remember any of it. I remember seeing the lorry a matter of feet from my face, then, for the next several minutes, I only remember the song Sometimes by the band James, which was playing on the CD player. No pain.

I f*cking love that band now.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Mon 1 Feb 2010, 10:36, 1 reply)

*click*
Song makes me cry buckets as well. You may have cured that, thank you!
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Mon 1 Feb 2010, 19:26, closed)